


The Purple Hoodie

by fightforyourwrite



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chicago (City), Dorks in Love, F/M, Stephanie is a med student, TimSteph, and Tim is just Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightforyourwrite/pseuds/fightforyourwrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it's 3AM, the fire alarm has been pulled, Stephanie is tired, and the cute guy from the fourth floor is only wearing his boxers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Purple Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

> I could not resist making a fic with this particular scenario for TimSteph. Hope you enjoyed it! Also, it's set in Chicago... for some reason, and obviously, no one's an awesome masked hero. Sounds lame, I know. But think you can give it a chance?

Stephanie Brown considered herself a normal person. At some points even, her consideration ended up proving itself to be true. From her habit of leaving her flat at 8 every morning to her natural knack for getting to her college classes at 8:44, just a minute before the nursing courses started; Stephanie was as normal as any perky 20-something blonde could be. 

Therefore, when the fire alarm in her apartment building rung at the ever-pleasant time of 3AM, Stephanie got out of bed with a notorious groaning noise and did what every normal person would do in this situation; she grabbed her wallet, phone, favourite hoodie and ran. 

Though, her mind told her to run, but her tired body told her to take it easy until the floor started getting hot. Luckily, Stephanie managed to slip on some shoes before exiting her flat, and thankfully, her sleeping wear wasn’t too revealing to the point where she would regret her entire building seeing her in it. 

Walking down the hall, Stephanie was joined by several of her neighbours, most who were just as tired and grumpy as her, by the time she had made it to the stairs. She came to the ground floor in a minutes, and exited the entire building in seconds. 

At first, the chilly Chicago air bit at her cheeks and exposed legs like a very small but sharp army of knives, but in due time, Stephanie’s body adjusted to the outside temperatures and her rate of shivering lowered down to reasonable levels. It was what she got for renting a flat in such a close proximity to the lake, but she didn’t mind, since she explained to a friend several times that the rent for her home made it a _“friggin’ steal.”_ Besides, her shivers were barely noticeable by now. 

As other residents exited the building and started pooling into the parking lot like she did, Stephanie found herself distracted with the fact that she managed to take her phone with her. Taking the device out of her pocket, she gave it a look while pondering what to do with it. 

Potentially, she could have called her mother, whom lived in a small town a few miles away from the city, but the question was, what would she say to the woman?

_‘Hello, mother. Just calling to let you know that the fire alarm in my building rang at 3AM and now I’m standing outside in track shorts, flats, and that sweater you claim I wear too much. I’m doing great on my own, by the way. Bye!’_ was the message Stephanie could have potentially left on her mother’s answering machine. 

Crystal Brown was a person who liked knowing that her daughter was all right, but a message like that would have probably concerned her more than assure her.

Therefore, Stephanie did what a normal person would do and kept her mother in the dark for now. What Crystal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Hey, know the time?” came a voice beside her.

Looking over to the source of the voice, Stephanie found herself greeted to one of the most peculiar sights she had ever seen in her life. Standing beside her was a guy just about her age; pale in complexion, hair a mess of black locks, eyes blue like the water of the lake, facial features sharp like a knife, and a rather decent amount of muscles defining his stature. 

He was also wearing only his boxers.

Stephanie got rather close to laughing, but somehow, she managed to restrain herself. A slightly amused giggle managed to get out, however. Taking out her phone, she decided to answer the guy’s question, “Yeah, I do. It’s 3:26.” 

“Damn,” the guy muttered. “Had to be 3 in the morning…” 

“Oh, tell me about it,” Stephanie agreed as she put her phone back in her pocket. She kept her eyes on him closely, reminding herself that it would be rude of her to look at anything that wasn’t the fellow’s face. “But you can’t win ‘em all. If an alarm wants to ring at 3AM, then the alarm’s gonna ring at 3AM.” Deciding to be friendly, she extended a hand out to him, “My name’s Stephanie Brown, by the way, apartment 647.”

The guy shook her hand with ease and a rather friendly smile despite being only in his underwear, “Timothy Drake, 436. But my friends call me Tim.” 

“Tim? Not Timmy? Or Timbo? Or Timberland?” Stephanie wondered, or rather, blurted. Out of everything Stephanie Brown had ever said to a guy in his boxers, why did she have to say that?

“No, just Tim,” he confirmed. “Though, I do know a lot of people who call me ‘Drake’ when I’ve done something to piss them off.”

Stephanie nodded her head in affirmation, “Ah, makes sense. I’ll keep that in mind, ‘Drake.’”

Tim raised an eyebrow as the joke flew over his head like a plane, “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No, that was sarcastic,” Stephanie confirmed, chuckling weakly. 

“Really? Because I feel like a lot of people would be pissed at me if I approached them randomly in my boxer shorts,” Tim theorized easily. “I’m pretty sure that it’d be frowned upon in public.”

Stephanie’s weak chuckle managed to morph into a completely amused laugh, “Well, you’re lucky that the cold is sapping up my ability to frown upon anything. Speaking of which…” Stephanie unzipped her purple hoodie and took it off. Underneath was a sweatshirt from her college’s student store, something suitable to keep her warm enough in the cold night’s air. She held the hoodie out to Tim, “Here, take this. You’re gonna freeze if you don’t.”

“No thanks,” Tim refused in the politest manner possible. “It’s yours and I wouldn’t want to take it from you.” 

“Take it,” Stephanie insisted. “Come on, I’m in training to become a nurse and I don’t wanna have a person die on me before I even get my license.” 

Tim’s lips were tensed into a straight line. His eyes told Stephanie that he was feeling stubborn at this point of the night, but his shivering body told Stephanie that he was going to freeze in seconds and that his testicles were current the size of peas. After a pregnant moment of silence where Tim and Steph’s eyes never broke contact, the boy in boxers gave up and took the purple hoodie. 

“Fine,” he complied. Tim pulled the hoodie onto the his torso, and immediately, he started feeling just a bit warmer in the chilly air. “Happy now?”

Stephanie was beaming, “Happy that I’m out here at 3AM? Nope. Happy that you’re gonna survive the night? Yep.”

“Good,” Tim stated, taking in a deep breath.

Stephanie changed the subject quickly, “So…” She glanced over to the building with a small group of sleepy people outside of it. “… who do you think pulled the alarm?” 

“Well, I don’t know everyone in this building,” Tim started, looking over at the residents with observant eyes. “But my guesses are Ronnie Raymond in 978, Garfield Lynns in 184, or Miss da Costa in 982.” 

Stephanie raised an eyebrow at Tim in slight confusion, “And why would you pinpoint those three?”

“Because,” Tim claimed, holding up his hands to articulate his words. “The last time I talked to Miss da Costa, she claimed to be such a bad cook that she could burn water. Raymond is an assistant to Doctor Martin Stein, an acclaimed scientist specializing in nuclear physics. Who’s to say that Ronnie doesn’t do some experiments in his own home? And Mr. Lynns over there happens to be our building’s residential pyromaniac.”

Stephanie looked more amused than confused at this point, “How do you know that Lynns is a pyromaniac?” 

“Because I seen him burning things on his balcony every week,” Tim claimed honestly. “I’m pretty sure that the causer of the alarm was him.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “If you say so, Detective Drake.” 

Tim seemed fond of that name the second Steph said it, “Thanks. I put a lot of work into my theories.” 

“But if I’m being honest here,” Stephanie had to interject. “My money’s on Raymond as the alarm puller.”

“Why Raymond?” Tim asked.

“Because if he is the guy, maybe he’ll get evicted and finally stop hogging all the machines in the laundry room,” Stephanie said with a little too much excitement. 

Rolling his eyes, Tim seemed amused, “Think so?”

“I know so,” Stephanie claimed with confidence. “And I’ll hold myself to mine if you hold yourself to yours.”

Again, Tim rose an eyebrow, “And what do you mean by that?”

“You bet that it’s Lynns and I bet that it’s Raymond,” Stephanie explained. “Loser buys the winner a coffee? Sound good.”

A grin came upon Tim’s face, and somehow, he managed to nod and agree, “You’re on, Stephanie.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, fun tidbit: I came up with the apartment numbers by looking at the comic issues where each mentioned character appeared. If it wasn't 3 digits, I'd just use the year. Cool, right?


End file.
